


Quiet

by trash_mountain



Series: Crushes [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_mountain/pseuds/trash_mountain
Summary: Max is tired and just wants to find a quiet place to take a nap.





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> There was a lack of Maxpres so I wrote some
> 
> this was mostly practice to see how well i could write their characters :P

Max was tired. So, so very tired. Neil had kept him up all night with some weird science puzzle he was trying to figure out. He stayed up the whole night muttering to himself and pacing around the tent, his voice getting louder every time he thought he was close to figuring it out. It was so horribly annoying. Max had stayed up all night, hoping that the blissful arms of sleep could come grab him, but it didn’t. At all. 

Eventually, Neil left because he had to get more coffee for the coffee machine he somehow hooked up in their tent. Max would have asked him how he did it, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care about anything at the moment except sleep. 

He kicked the blankets off his body and rolled out of bed, pulling his hoodie over his head as he wandered out of his tent. He squinted his eyes at the light, already feeling annoyance and dread fill his tiny body at the new day staring in his face. God, he hated this place. But as much as he hated it, they were by a forest, where Max could hopefully find a quiet place to nap. 

He went to the mess hall first, only to be met with a wave of loud noises and voices that physically prevented him from going in there at all. So, he turned heel and left as soon as he came. There was no way he was dealing with whatever the hell that was. 

He made his way towards the docks after the mess hall, maybe he could camp out in one of the boats for an hour or two. However, as his _amazing_ luck would have it, Nerris and Harrison were having a stupid magic show off battle, and Max could already barely be around then normally. 

Max groaned and trudged his way back into camp, and searched for that apparently non-existent quiet place. He went to the forest, got poked at by squirrels and the Quartermaster showed up. He went to sleep by a tree off to the side in the campground, got kicked out of there by Nurf because it was his “Favorite Punching Tree”. Ugh. 

He swore he tried every place in the campground and was getting more tired and more pissed off by the second. Then, his feet lead him to the last place he had yet to try. The theater stage. 

The stained red curtains were closed, meaning that Preston wasn’t practicing lines or anything at the moment. Maybe, he wasn’t here? Or maybe he was? Max was never sure anymore, he’s been seeing less and less of Preston as the summer went on. It’s almost like the taller boy was avoiding him. Well, Max wouldn’t blame him he did insult and kind of ruined his first play. He also noticed that Preston glares at him when he walks through camp. Yeah, he probably hates Max. 

Either way, it was definitely quiet and no one would expect Max of all people to be here. He sighed heavily, he wasn’t super in the mood to deal with Preston if he was there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

He pushed open the door that leads to the back part of the stage, where all the props were stored and where actors would go to get ready before heading on stage. He climbed the few stairs and looked around, it was pretty dark and there seemed to be no signs of life. 

Max felt himself relax a bit as he walked further into the room. His eyes scanned for a spot to sleep when his eyes caught a bit of light through the side curtain leading to the stage. Curious, Max peered through the ripped fabric to see Preston, sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of paper. 

He was writing, presumably more plays. His pencil was moving a mile a minute and his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth just a bit. When he got to the bottom of the page, he read over it quickly, frowned, then placed it in the large pile to his right. Preston seemed super focused on what he was doing, he probably wouldn’t even notice if Max slept somewhere in the back. 

Max turned to walk away, but his _amazing_ luck decided to strike again. Only this time, in the form of Max bumping into something and causing it to clatter to the ground. Max frowned and closed his eyes tightly, his hands clenching at his sides. 

“Who goes there!” Preston said, alert. Max could hear the patter of his feet as he got up from his spot over to the side curtain. He pulled it back, revealing a horribly angry looking Max. At the sight, Preston just began to look annoyed himself, his face was turning a bit red. “Oh, no, no, no! This is where I come for some peace and quiet to write my plays! I will not have a ruffian coming in here and making-!”

“Fucking shut up Preston, you’re being too loud.” Max placed a hand on his thudding head and sighed. “Look, I’m not here to fuck anything up. I’m just really tired and want to be somewhere quiet just like you do. I won’t bother you if you won’t bother me.” 

Preston went silent and seemed to ponder his words. “So, you came here because it was quiet?” Max nodded in response. “Hmm, well I guess I could let you stay. On one condition.” 

Max groaned loudly. “What do you mean a condition? The condition is that if I don’t bother you, you won’t fuck with me! That’s it!” He started to rub his temples, why was Preston being so difficult? 

Preston crossed his arms over his chest. “Well considering this is _my_ stage that I am so _graciously_ letting you use, you could at least repay me by reading some of the play I’ve written. I’ve been wanting some feed back and while you aren’t the most optimal person to be asking, beggars can’t be choosers.” He gestured for Max to follow him as he walked back on stage. 

Max grumbled, shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, and followed. 

Preston sat back down in the middle of his circle of papers, quickly moving and organizing a few of the piles to make a spot for Max to sit next to him. He patted the spot and Max rolled his eyes, flopping down next to him. 

“So, what do I have to read?” Max asked, wanting to get this over with as quick as possible. 

Preston hummed and looked over his piles. “Well this row of papers here are for act 1, and this other one is for act 2, and then each of those acts are split into ‘good’, ‘bad’, and ‘maybe’ piles. After I write out a scene, I read it over and if I like it it goes in the ‘good’ pile if I dislike it, it goes in the ‘bad’ pile.” 

Max blinked for a few seconds, his tired brain trying to absorb all that information. “Why make a bad pile at all? If you hate it why not just throw it out?” 

“Well, something I hated originally might become something that I like later as the story progresses. A writer must never throw out their work, as all work can be revisited.” Preston said with a smile, a finger pointed up as he recited something he must have heard somewhere before. 

“Hm.” Was all Max said in response. 

“Anyway, let’s see what I would like you to read over.” Preston leaned forward, grabbing a few papers from act 1, ruffling through them as he read them over himself.

Max looked at the stacks of paper, then back to Preston, watching as his eyes quickly ran over the writing, his lips moving over each word. He would occasionally make faces, probably to go with the emotion his characters were feeling at the moment. It was quiet as he read, nothing but the sound of the occasional ruffle of paper. It was strangely nice. 

Max shifted his eyes down to his lap, his body finally fully relaxing for the first time all day, and in the presence of Preston no less. Max always thought the kid was over eccentric and annoying, he still is of course, but it seems like he has a chill side too. Max’s eyes drooped and his body swayed. His exhaustion was hitting him with full force. And it didn’t help that everything was so blissfully quiet and that Preston’s body heat felt so comfortable on this chilled morning. Or afternoon. Max didn’t really know anymore. 

Either way, he was super comfortable. His eyes dropped more before shutting. It felt so nice to close his eyes. Max let out a breath and felt his body sway one more time until he felt nothing at all. 

In that next moment, Preston jumped at the feeling of something falling onto his shoulder. He quickly turned his head, coming face to face with a very asleep Max. Preston’s first instinct was to push him off, but as he took in the redness around his eyes and noticed how deep his eye bags were, Preston decided that it would probably be best to let him sleep. Besides, the company was actually nice, even if the other was asleep. 

He relaxed just a bit, or well, as much as he could relax with his heart beating super hard in his chest. Preston frowned a bit, of course, it had to be Max that came wandering onto his stage. For some unknown reason, Preston hasn’t been able to be himself around Max. Or well, he is able, it just sometimes takes a little longer for him to get the words out. He had tried avoiding him because of this, he did not like the effect Max was having on him, or the feelings Max gave him.

They were just so strange to him, these feelings, that is. They were different, nothing that Preston had ever felt previously. They confused him so he hated them, and because he hated them he figured it must be because he wasn’t particularly fond of Max. He did ruin Preston’s play after all, and then told him it was stupid. 

That’s what it was. That’s surely what those feelings meant. 

Preston had been too wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he had gazed at him for longer than he meant to. It’s just, he’s never seen Max without a frown so close up before. He looked peaceful. Preston placed down the writing he was holding to push a tuft of hair out of Max’s face. He pulled his hand away slowly, his eyes scanning over the softened features of the other boy’s face as a thought occurred to him. 

You know, Max actually looks kind of cute when he’s asleep.

It took Preston a second to fully register the thought, and when he did, his whole body tensed. Did he really just think Max was cute?” Preston felt heat crawl up his neck to his cheeks, his heart starting to pick up in his chest as he dropped his eyes down to his play. 

Why was he suddenly thinking like this? There was no reason for him too. At least, he didn’t think there was. The effect Max had on him was negative, wasn’t it? He hated him, didn't he? Those times when his eyes followed Max through camp, those were glares, not stares. And when Preston’s throat gets all tight when Max talks to him, it’s because he can’t stand the thought of talking to him. It’s not like he looks at Max hoping he’d look back and it’s not like he gets nervous when he talks to him because he wants to impress Max, right? Those are all negative feelings, right? It’s not like- It’s not like he has a crush-

Preston covered his face with one hand, the heat practically radiating off of him as he came to a horrible dreadful conclusion. 

He has a crush on Max, and he found out in the lamest way possible. 

How unromantic of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr --> @trash-mountain
> 
> I'll even take requests if y'all have any!


End file.
